


Where Are You Now

by rustytiffany



Series: Oops I Did It Again [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustytiffany/pseuds/rustytiffany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ninth of twelve standalone fics inspired by Oops!...I Did It Again, the second album of Britney Spears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Are You Now

_Calling out your name_  
_Your face is everywhere_  
_I'm reaching out to you_  
_To find that you're not there_  
_I wake up every night_  
_To see the state I'm in_  
_It's like an endless fight_  
_I never seem to win_  
  
_I can't go on as long as I believe_  
_Can't let go when I keep wondering_  
  
_Where are you now, what have you found_  
_Where is your heart, when I'm not around_  
_Where are you now, you gotta let me know  
_ _Oh baby, so I can let you go_

  


It’s been five years. Five fucking years since you were friends, since you loved her. Since you broke your heart. You’re over her, you really are. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, even though deep down you know it’s not true. You’ve moved on, admitted to yourself who you really are, been with other girls. But still she’s there, always, in the back of your mind.

You wanted her so badly, more than you were really able to recognize at the time, and you only got a taste of it before she was ripped away from you, before you got scared and fled. There are still days when you lay in bed, thinking about what it would have been like with her had you not left, or if you bumped into her now. You don’t want to imagine what it would feel like to have her lips pressed against yours, to feel her body flush against yours, warm and inviting and wanting. You hate yourself some days for fantasizing about her, but you can’t help it.

After all the baby drama settled, you were able to swallow your pride and admit that she might have been right, that you might need her a little bit after all. You slowly became friends, and she turned out to be the best friend you’d ever had, before or since. You don’t even know how it happened, but somewhere along the line you started seeing her differently, in a way that both terrified and excited you. You began focusing on her lips as she spoke or sang, rather than the sound coming from them. You found yourself staring at her barely-covered ass, or at the curve of her breasts concealed by argyle and animal sweaters. You caught yourself mesmerized by long, tanned legs that should have seemed out of place on her small body, but instead had you fantasizing about how they would feel wrapped around you. You refused to give into those thoughts, to admit to anyone how you really felt, but that didn’t stop you from losing yourself in fantasies late at night, safe in your own bed, as your hand slipped lower to alleviate the ache she unknowingly caused.

Not a day goes by that you don’t regret not following her to New York. You had the acceptance to NYU sitting in your desk drawer, all you had to do was send the letter confirming your decision to matriculate there and everything would have been perfect. But you were too much of a coward, too afraid of your own feelings, to take that risk and give yourself the opportunity to be happy, so you turned down NYU and went to UC Berkeley instead. You ran from the one person who truly cared about you, who just might have been the love of your life had you given her a fair chance, and fled to the opposite side of the country.

You had one night with her, the night after graduation. Puck had a party for the original twelve glee members (well, thirteen, because even though Matt was invited, you all still considered Sam part of the group) and their significant others. As the night wore on and more alcohol was ingested, the couples began to disappear into the upstairs bedrooms, or just into dark corners. Brittany and Santana; Tina and Artie (who had finally reunited senior year after Artie admitted he was a bit of a misogynist, but he loved Tina and was working on it); Kurt and Blaine; Sam and his boyfriend (it turned out he was bisexual); Mike, Matt and Finn and their girlfriends; Puck and whatever girl he was sleeping with that week; which left you and her. You were both single, and had been for a while. You’d both been drinking, but not enough that either of you could really be considered drunk, just tipsy enough to lower your inhibitions. You made your way up to one of the bedrooms, since neither of you were in any condition to drive home. She tripped over nothing on your way into the room, and you collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. You don’t even know how it happened; one minute you were laying next to her laughing, the next you were on top of her, her hands in your hair and your tongue down her throat. Most of the night is a blur, but you remember every detail of that part perfectly. You remember every touch, every kiss, every moan and whimper. You remember how the muscles in her stomach clenched as you ran your hands over them, how her nipples hardened when you flicked your tongue over them, the way she gasped when you slid two fingers inside of her, how she moaned and cried out your name as she tightened and clenched around you before collapsing in a satisfied heap. More than anything, you remember how she whispered, “I love you” against your chest before cuddling up to you and falling asleep. You didn’t sleep that night, your mind racing with what had happened between you and how you had to get out of there. You waited until you were sure she was asleep, kissed her forehead, then gathered your clothes and left. It was the last time you saw her.

Even now, five years later, your mind still returns to thoughts of her, as your hand moves below your blanket and trails down your stomach. You know where she is and what she’s doing; she’s a big Broadway star, just like she always said she’d be. You’ve seen all the magazine articles and television interviews and she’s just as charming and loveable as she always was. She seems to be happy, and the last thing you would ever want to do is barge back into her life, even if it’s the only thing you’re certain about wanting. You didn’t date much in college, just slept around with the same girls until you got bored and moved on. You never committed to any of them. You changed your major three times, until it got too late and you had to just stick with one if you wanted to graduate on time. Now here you were, a year out of college, working a dead-end job that you hated but it paid the bills, and the only thing you know you wanted in your life was her. It was too late for you now though. You had your chance five years ago, and you walked out. You hate yourself for it, and want nothing more than to just get over her, but it’s easier said that done.

You move your hand lower, to the waistband of your underwear. This has been a nightly occurrence for the past five years, any night where you found yourself without a warm body to help you forget the dark eyes that haunted you, even if just for a few hours. You slip inside, feeling the warmth emanating from your core and sighing at the wetness you find there. You don’t tease yourself, and immediately begin thrusting hard with two fingers; this isn’t about your pleasure, it’s about relaxing you enough that you can maybe get a few hours of sleep. You can almost feel her breath hot on your collarbone, her hand on your hip holding you down. Your fingers move faster, harder, deeper as you reach up with your other hand to tweak your painfully hard nipples, causing you to cry out. You miss her, you want her, you need her, but you don’t want to. You screwed up, you know that, and all you want is to stop seeing her face every time you close your eyes. You move your thumb to circle your clit as you feel yourself nearing the edge. Your breathing quickens, your back arches, your heart pounds. You’re so close. You grab a pillow and bury your face in it to suppress the loud moan that tears from your throat as you come, her name on your lips every time.

_“Rachel.”_

It’s been five years. Five fucking years since you were friends, since you loved her. Since you broke both your hearts. You should be over her. But every night she’s there, in your mind, as you reach beneath the blanket and allow yourself to just _feel_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics from Where Are You Now, by Britney Spears


End file.
